His Harry, His Wheezy
by linguisticameencanta
Summary: Set in the summer after OotP. Harry is severely depressed, Ron is terribly worried. Something happens to Harry that might just shatter everything Ron ever knew...
1. Part One

**This is my first fanfiction I've ever posted. I would like to make a few things clear  
**

**1 - Slash between Harry and Ron. If you don't like slash, please don't read **

**2 - This is part one in a series - this is NOT the only chapter. A few people have already read this on the LiveJournal community HarryandRon and thought this was a one-shot**

** 3 - Reviews are very welcome :-)**

**4 - THANK YOU FOR READING! **

** - Part One -**

As he rode away from King's Cross Station in the back of his Uncle Vernon's car, he stared out the window as fields, cars, and homes flew past him. While he wondered if his world would someday be what others might call normal, Harry Potter felt a tear slide down his cheek. His hand quickly wiped away his accidental and short-lived show of emotion. All he could do was hope that he would be allowed to stay in his room as much as possible. He didn't think that he could handle the Dursley's without becoming violent. He felt too guilty about what he'd done in the Department of Mysteries and knew he was severely depressed. If Mrs. Weasley had known, she'd have fussed over him for days and sent him straight to Saint Mungo's. Harry knew he would never be worth that much trouble.

After his trunk had been taken up to his room, he lay on his bed for hours until the Dursley's were getting ready for bed. They'd been informed of the recent events in the Wizarding world and understood that if Harry wanted to talk, he would initiate the conversation. Harry unlocked his door and slowly went downstairs. He found his Aunt Petunia in the kitchen finishing cleaning the dinner dishes. He stopped in the archway and stared at her, his eyes trying to burn a hole in the back of her head.

Petunia thought she had heard someone walk by and turned around to find her nephew looking as though he'd died. Not actually knowing what was the right thing to say or do, he nodded her head and whispered to him, "Harry, do you need to say something?" Harry nodded in slight agreement as he sat down at the brand new kitchen table. He figured his aunt would yell at him if he smudged the shiny finish so he shoved the chair back from the table. However, she started rummaging around in the fridge and pulled out piece of chocolate cake and a fork for him. Harry's mouth fell open in shock for she had never really cared for him before that moment. With a quick glance up at his aunt, he slowly picked up the fork and took a bite.

After a few minutes, Petunia started the conversation.

"Harry, look, I know what happened. The Order is in contact with me daily. Before you ask, no, Vernon has no idea. I'll leave you alone if that's what you really want, but I have to make sure you're all right. I don't know if what all is really bothering you, but I do know that you have a great deal on your mind." She paused for a moment, thinking that she could have said things much better if she'd thought about it beforehand.

As Harry sat in his chair, stunned that his aunt had just mentioned and actually acknowledged the magical world and The Order, he wondered just how much she knew. He also figured she had no idea what really happened or what was going on inside his head. Harry was torn between furiously storming off to his room while yelling obscenities down at her or just getting up and going to his room quietly. As he stayed in his seat a few extra seconds to decide, his emotions and teenage hormones took control of the situation. As he stormed off upstairs, he screamed back at her "LEAVE ME THE BLOODY HELL ALONE, YOU INSENSITIVE, PRYING, HATEFUL OLD HAG!"

While Harry blew off steam spitting profanities all the way back up to his room, he felt his heart fall below his stomach as he slammed the door. Not only had he not said anything he needed to tell her, but he had thoroughly insulted his mother's sister. Furthermore, he'd just called his only real contact with The Order and his past, a "hateful old hag," among others. He soon felt as though his head might explode from all the anger and guilt rapidly forming inside it. Sliding down the door, he rested his head on his knees while his hands wrenched up the loose denim on his legs as tight as they would go. If anyone had been outside the door listening to him, they would have head him whispering and sobbing so quietly it would have barely been audible.

"Help me... please somebody help me... Mom? Dad...? Sirius...? Oh please, I can't do this anymore and... look at everything I've caused to go wrong...Please... Ronald Weasley... you're all I have left."

The great Boy-Who-Lived spent the next three weeks in his room, sulking, brooding, and exceeding the limits of "severe depression" with each passing hour. He left his room only to relieve himself once a day and to bathe only if he felt like it. Petunia shoved food through the doggie door three times a day, though he usually never even so much as sniffed any of it. Harry had no idea his aunt had recently sent a message to The Order to inform them about his behavior.

A week before the end of July, Dumbledore finally decided something drastic must be done about Harry's rapidly diminishing mental and emotional state. He decided to send Remus Lupine, Mad-Eye Moody, and last but not least, Ron, to Harry's aid. They all had a slight idea of what to expect when they arrived in Privet Drive. Petunia had been notified the previous day so she could find a way for Vernon and Dudley to be away for the afternoon.

When they arrived in the Dursley's fireplace that afternoon, Petunia screamed and ran straight into the kitchen. She may have been more open to the Wizarding world now but arriving via fireplaces was something she was very unaccustomed to. Remus decided it was a grand time to introduce themselves, figuring they would be sharing much contact in the future.

"Good afternoon, Petunia. I'm Remus Lupin. This is Alastor Moody," Moody grunted as a greeting, "and this is one of Harry's best friends, Ron Weasley," he finished rather quickly.

She hesitated before shaking hands with anyone and before she finished telling them all who she was, she was walking as fast as she could toward the kitchen. They followed her; Ron barely able to restrain himself from rushing up the staircase to Harry's room. Harry was Ron's first real friend other than his brothers and sister. He had to make sure everything was okay. He was brought back to reality when Petunia started to speak again.

"So, I know you've been receiving my letters. We've tried to leave him alone when he wants to be so he doesn't go storming out of the house to God only knows where. He doesn't eat anymore and comes out of his room about every other day. I don't know what he does in there but we never hear any movement. Frankly, I'm too afraid to go knock on his door. I'm afraid that if I disturbed him at a particularly bad time, he might turn me into a rat."

Ron tried to suppress his laughter at her ludicrous statement. Just as he opened his mouth to tell her that she'd more likely be turned into a ferret, Ron heard four loud bangs coming from upstairs, followed by another even louder thud. Before the adults could fully absorb the possibilities of what had happened, Ron had bolted up the stairs and rammed himself full force into Harry's door.

As the door burst open, there in full view was the great Harry Potter, lying on the floor. "HARRY! EVERYBODY MOVE! GET UP HERE NOW!" Ron was screaming himself hoarse as he fell down beside Harry's limp body. His skin was as pale as Hedwig and his limbs so thin that Ron was almost afraid to touch him. As Ron rushed forward to his best friend, he saw blood oozing from Harry's head and a deep dent in the wall.

The adults came dashing up the stairs a full half minute behind Ron with Moody in the lead, brandishing his wand threateningly in front of him. The second Moody's eyes fell on the dented wall and then down to an unconscious Harry, he conjured a Portkey from Harry's now broken glasses that were lying on the floor. As he bent down and took Harry into his massive arms, he told Ron and Petunia to stay behind. Remus and Moody took the Portkey into their hands and before Ron could object, they were gone... straight off to Saint Mungo's.

For a moment Petunia and Ron stood in silence, still staring at the bloodstained floor where the Boy-Who-Lived had lain only seconds before. However, their moment of was interrupted by Vernon and Dudley returning from their afternoon excursion. Petunia quickly gathered her composure and briskly left the room to greet her husband and whale of a son. This left Ron in Harry's bedroom, alone, confused, and angry... but mostly afraid he'd lost his life. His Harry.


	2. Part Two

**Title: **His Harry, His Wheezy – Part Two

**Summary:** Story is set immediately after "Order of the Phoenix" ends, which is the start of summer before Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

**Rating:** R for sexual references and mild language. (As the story progresses, it will hit R. At the moment, it's about PG-13.)

**Warnings: **Harry Potter/Ron Weasley slash

**Words:** 1637

**Disclaimer:** Joanne Kathleen Rowling owns all characters, names, places, rights, and other technical terms of which I am not aware. However, the plot is my invention with possible/probable references to actual events in the series.

_**Part Two**_

Harry's bed sheets were curled around Ron's head as he lay there with tears streaming down his pale face. The only other time he had shown such emotion like this was when Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets in his second year. He lay thereremained in Harry's bed for three hours, just waiting on someone - anyone - to come back for him. Ron desperately wished that they would give him an update on Harry's condition or take him to Saint Mungo's to be with Harryhim.

As Ron slowly nodded off to sleep six hours after Harry's departure, he whispered in a voice so soft, it could have been the wind, "Harry, please be okay. Please come back… to me. I _can't_ loose my best friend. I _cannot_ loose my best friend. I _will not_ loose my best friend. I cannot believe…" Ron faded into two hours of a very fitful dream in which Harry was beaten, starved, and severely cut. His nightmare quickly ended as he woke up to the sound of someone Aapparating into Harry's bedroom.

Ron was shouting before his feet had even hit the floor. "What is it? What's wrong? _TELL ME_!" Mad-Eye Moody had never seen Ron in such a state, his eyes as big as beetles and his face redder than the hair atop his head.

Moody started slowly, "Well, Ron… I'm not the one to tell you. Eh, look, I don't know most of it. You need to get ready because I'm here to take you to Saint Mungo's. The Healers need to talk to you. Also, when Harry wakes up, you two will be in need of a long chat, I do believe. Come on, move it! We've wasted enough time as it is. Got your wand? Not in your pocket, boy! Apparently nobody bothers to teach elementary wand-safety anymore…."

As Ron jumped out of Harry's bed and went to stand beside Moody sowhile he could makde a Portkey, he made a mental note to ask Dumbledore why he let anyone so … well, whatever Moody was, be in charge of someone so special and vital to the Wizarding world. Moody found one of Harry's old socks lying in a corner and figured it was as good of an object as any for a Portkey. Before Ron could take a last glance at the empty bed, he found himself on his knees in the registration area of the hospital.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The moment they had managed to pull themselves from the floor, Mad-Eye had taken off toward the stairs with Ron running at his heels. Flight one, two, three … seven, eight, nine… twelve – finally! The twelfth floor was eerily quiet. The only people Ron saw were Medi-witches and Healers dashing about and all to and from the same room. Mad-Eye made his way through the mass of medical scrubs, clip-boards, and thick medical encyclopedias flying from all directions as Ron struggled to stay behind him. Upon reaching the other side of the hallway, he saw:

Room 1221

Harry James Potter

**Assigned Healer(s):**

_Saint Mungo's Healer Lewis_

_Saint Mungo's Healer Sahbeti_

_Healer Pomfrey (Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry)_

From his previous trips to Saint Mungo's visiting his father last Christmas, Ron knew it was highly unusual for any patient to have more than one Healer. Moody quickly sensed what Ron must have been thinking from the horrified look on his face.

Not being one for subtlety, Moody grunted, "He's famous, Ron. Remember that." Ron could only nod as he attempted to swallow his fear as heand reached for the door-knob. He could barely will his eyes to search for his friend amongst the mass of people rushing around the room.

Harry lay there conscious, although withsurrounded by Muggle medical machines attached to his body through nearly twenty plastic tubes. His chest rising slightly with each breath he took, his face etched with a painful grimace each time he tried to move his head. Having had quite enough questions and Healers prodding him for information of all kinds, Harry started whispering, "Go away, I want to be alone. I need to be alone. Ow…" As Ron watched his friend fall back to unconsciousness, he himself dropped down into the nearest chair, pulling his knees up to his chest with worry.

A middle-aged woman and former Auror, Healer Lewis, stepped up to Ron in his chair with a thick clip-board of notes, test results, and a vast amount of questions to ask.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The old, frustrated, grey-haired Healer was nearly screaming at Ron. "So, you're telling me that Harry, as you put it, 'has suffered a great loss' recently. Well, don't you think that the rest of our world would have heard about The-Boy-Who-Lived and his life problems? We've got Rita Skeeter, mind you!"

Ron was very pissed-off when the Healer didn't believe his responses. "Excuse me, but I should bloody well hope that I know what I'm talking about considering HARRY POTTER IS MY BEST FRIEND AND YOU'VE NEVER MET HIM!" With that, the Healer walked out of the room to fetch someone to contain the redhead's temper and get some answers.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Professor Lupin and Professor Dumbledore were waiting outside in the hallway when Healer Lewis came storming out of Harry's room, her clip-board almost soaring out of her hand. Upon spotting the two adults, she threw the clip-board at them. "Get in there and get me some answers. I'm sick of these kids making up cock and bull stories! I need details so we can treat this boy!" With each word she sprayed spit onto the gentlemen's faces, her voice full of fury.

Almost with shared looks of amusement, they walked inside to find a very disgruntled Ron sitting at his best friends' bedside. Professor Lupin had never seen Ron with such a look in his eye. It was more than fear, more than pain, with a love that… just maybe he was picking up on something that was supposed to be secret. Though perhaps it wasn't realized….

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Professor Dumbledore pulled up a chair next to Ron and with his gentle, re-assuring voice, proceeded to inform him of everything he needed to know before his interrogation. "Ron, first I must tell you, though I'm sure you have already guessed, that Harry is on a private ward. In fact, not only is it private just because he is the famous "'Boy-Who-Lived,"' but because of the nature of his illness." In response to Ron's sudden look of horror, the old man smiled. "No Ron, he'll be fine. What I mean is that it isn't magical at all. It's a Muggle … ailment. Harry has had to deal with many difficult matters in the past year – the death of a fellow student, the second rise of Tom Riddle, as well as the death of his god-father – the only real family he ever knew. These things as well as countless others have put Harry into an extremely severe depression. Emotionally, he cannot handle things around him. It cannot be cured with magic, only through perseverance, encouragement, support, and love. This is where we all come into the picture, though especially you.

"Before the Healers can begin a treatment plan for Harry, it will be necessary to get as much information about him as possible. You are his closest friend and you will be instrumental in his recovery." The old man paused at his statement and chuckled to himself. Ron wouldn't understand the full meaning of those words until much later… How interesting it all will be…

Deciding to just get it over- with – again – Ron answered the basic questions on the clipboard. However, the answers were getting a bit more personal and Ron wasn't sure he should be answering them.

"Number forty-seven. Has Harry ever had questions about his sexuality?" Professor Dumbledore had noticed many years ago that Harry and Ron were just a bit different in terms of friends. Of course, he had also noted that neither had yet realized what those differences were.

Ron hesitated to answer this question both for his and Harry's sanity… or really whatever was left of Harry emotionally. He remembered Harry asking him two years ago if it were strange that he loved him (Ron). He said it was a brotherly love, but he thought it might extend … under certain circumstances. Ron had been speechless and never answered Harry, but inside he agreed whole-heartedly. "Uhm… is this really important, Professor?"

The Headmaster sighed. and wWith as much sympathy as he could inflect into his voice, he replied, "I'm sorry, Ron. It needs to be answered. If it would make you feel better, we can cast a security spell between us. Whatever you say – I cannot and will not repeat under any circumstances. Whatever the Healers may learn, they too will be sworn to secrecy." Ron looked up at the aging, yet second most powerful wizard in the world. Sheepishly, he nodded his head and Dumbledore cast the spell.

Ron took a deep breath and prepared for both his and Harry's world to come crashing down in an instant.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore. Harry … didn't know about … if he … with me … if I … I …" With that, the bashful redhead covered his face with his hands and tried not to think of the implications of what he had just told his Headmaster … or perhaps the world if that damned cow Rita Skeeter had been under a chair as that damned bloody beetle Animagus form.

Ron thought to himself, "Oh Merlin, what have I done to Harry?"


End file.
